


Not On His King

by KatLeePT



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4190751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatLeePT/pseuds/KatLeePT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not on his King, she isn't!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not On His King

"Just where do you think you're going?"  
  
They're in Texas, so the Southern girl doesn't pay the guns the man is toting any attention. "Wherevah Ah want," she drawls as though he's a bug about to be squished underneath her own boot. She starts to sashay pass him.  
  
The man steps into her way again. This time, he places a stilling hand on her thin shoulder. The girl glowers at him and moves to shrug him off, but he clamps down hard on her skin. She cringes against the pain and swings at him. He catches her hand in his other hand and begins to squeeze.  
  
"You really think you're something, don't you? So he bought you a drink. So he flirted with your little, tight, free ass from across the room. Winked at ya, maybe blew a kiss or two. What d'ya do? Fuck every man who buys you a drink? Of course you do. You're a whore." His grip tightens on her hand, crushing every bone within. She screams; he smiles, his eyes shifting to pure black. "You're not fit to touch my King."  
  
His smile grow with each painful stammer that utters through her pretty, pink lips. He throws her back with the rest of her kind, his smile turning into a sneer. He's disgusted that he would have once risked his own mortal life to protect hers while trying to get into her pants. There's no telling where she's been, or with whom, but he know where she isn't going or, rather, again, with whom.  
  
He throws out his hands. Energy balls rip through the room. His grin spreads across his handsome, impish face as the blonde, along with all the other whores in the bar, explodes. Their screams sound better than even the rock music to which he loves to grind. He takes the men out next, too, for good measure before spinning on the heels of his boots to the sound of applause.  
  
His King raises his drink in a toast to him. "Well done, my pet. Well done."  
  
He shrugs, and Crowley smiles as he watches the muscles rippling underneath his black leather. He owns him now, every muscle and every bit of soul, too. "Nothing to it," the one-time hunter answers. His eyes lock with Crowley's, and he wriggles his pelvis invitingly. "Want me to dance for you?"  
  
"Another time, pet. For now," Crowley finishes his drink, sets it back down, and stirs the remaining ice with the little stick on his umbrella, "come here." Dean does as ordered, and once he's near enough for the motion to be effortless on his King's part, Crowley reaches up, grabs a handful of his shirt, and yanks him down to him. "Good boy," he whispers against his mouth before replacing his drink with Dean's mouth and tongue. Turning his boy was the best idea he'd ever had. His numbers have never been higher, and he's never been more satisfied.  
  
The End

 

**Author's Note:**

> All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.


End file.
